#269: Memento Mondays

After reading Corey's piece below, I thought of a specific chapter from "The Untethered Soul" by Michael A. Singer. It's titled "Contemplating Death," where it actually sheds a very positive light on passing... It discusses how, because death reveals a limit, it can serve to encourage people to live life more deeply and openly. It is as though it is the greatest teacher of all in that it reminds one to journey freely through each day with boldness and curiosity, rather than be lost in mental chatter or trivial annoyances. Corey's writing here reminds me how sometimes having boundaries, or perhaps measurable calculations of time in this instance, can actually be very eye-opening and thus joyfully liberating.  

- Amanda

MEMENTO MONDAYS

I attended a virtual conference a couple weeks ago. It was for work, so both my observer mind and participant mind were in attendance. As I was running down the list of sessions, figuring out which spoke to me, one leapt off the page. It was called “How Many Mondays?” I’m a big believer in trusting my gut when I feel big reactions like this (thanks theater and yoga training, and this awesome podcast with Rudy), so I made sure to put it on my calendar.

The presentation was captivating, funny, and insightful. I remember being affected while listening; taken to thought-lands I’d peeked into before, but not properly viewed. The overarching theme was MEMENTO MORI, Latin for “remember death”. Not from a depressing lens, but a clear-sighted one. Death happens to biological beings, and I happen to inhabit one for now.

It was shocking at first. Calculating how many Mondays I may have left until my kids are teenagers, how many left in my working years, and maybe how many I have left in this body. Reducing it to a specific quantity made it feel so… close.

I’m no stranger to thinking about death. (Though I have been half-joking with family, friends, and students for years that I do expect to live to at least 128.) I remember becoming consciously aware of having limited time in this dimension during my Saturn Returns when I was 29, more recently as my number of wizened family members has steadily decreased, and even earlier this year when Francesca and I experienced a personal tragedy. Articles and conferences on Thanatology seemed to have come into my locus of focus recently, too.

It hasn’t been until weeks after the workshop that I’ve begun to realize how deeply it affected me. I hear the words “memento mori”, and its flip-side, “carpe diem” echo in my mind during the quiet moments between the flurry of work and family. I’ve done some vocal mantra work in the past, but this one feels deeper; it’s now my mind repeating the words for me.

I feel as though I’ve gained a new, more permanent lens through which I’m interpreting all my feelings, sensations, and experiences. The tangible feeling of knowing my death is inevitable makes every moment feel more valuable. It gives me the clarity to summon more of my best-self to my toss-up moments. It’s encouraging me to take more time with people I love, let things go more quickly, and find more fun in my days. Most of all - I enjoy Mondays much more than I used to.